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Deep, dark, desperate, lonely
It seems as though this place couldn't be more home-y
There aren't any pictures on the walls,
just drab paintings
Nothing in here is ever too bright
No matter what I add —
I'm still waiting for the colors to bleed in
I'm still waiting for good feelings to deepen
Do they ever?
I pull the curtains open in the house in my mind
The light. I wait for the sunshine
I wait for dawn to break
I wait for yellows and oranges and pinks and reds to dart and dance across the blue and white
As I stare out the window in this tiny house,
I wait for the people to walk by,
I wait for the smell of roasting coffee to waft into my nostrils,
I wait to share a laugh, or something, with anybody
I wait for the colors to burst behind my eyelids
I've waited long enough, today I go out,
No matter how good it feels to stay inside the house,
and I chase the sunrise across the big open sky
Why can't I?
YOU ARE READING
Easier To Forget
PoetryPoems. // Hi, hello. This is a sort-of memoir/journal of unorthodox poems that I've written over the years. I started writing in 2015. Glad you're here (: Feel free to leave comments and vote or w/e. ×Mysneakz [Completed]
